


In Our Old Familiar Place

by shihadchick



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Hooking up, M/M, Sex Bets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23628904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihadchick/pseuds/shihadchick
Summary: The thing is, this isn't even the stupidest bet they've ever made. It might be the one they've actually kept tabs on the longest, but that's not saying much.
Relationships: Brandon Saad/Vincent Trocheck
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	In Our Old Familiar Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thehandsoftime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehandsoftime/gifts).



> This is mostly set in 2015-2016; I've been working on it on and off since then and figured there was no sense sitting on it any longer. 
> 
> For [thehandsoftime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehandsoftime/profile), who knows exactly why. <3
> 
> (And the title is, of course, Billy Joel, because who else.)

* * *

Vincent knows the moment the puck hits the back of his leg that something's wrong, badly. It sounds normal, the rubber hitting the back of his skate, but his leg starts to buckle and it takes more effort than he'd like to be able to stay up and keep defending until he can get back to the bench.

They take him down the tunnel to get checked out, and he doesn't even need to read the trainers' faces to know what the scan's saying. He's sitting the rest of this game out, and then some.

 _Well fuck,_ he thinks. Though there is one tiny, microscopic silver lining.

At least he's still ahead of Saader.

* * *

Eight Months Earlier:

The thing is, this isn't even the stupidest bet they've ever made. It might be the one they've actually kept tabs on the longest, but that's not saying much.

Vince isn't saying that he's ever had to drink milk out of someone's skate, thank fuck for that, but it had maybe been closer than he'd have liked back in Saginaw, which should probably have been a lesson on how he shouldn't make dumb bets with his friends.

Then again, the memory of Saader having to do a lap around the ice in just skates and his jock late one night after practice was a pretty good vote in the 'for' column.

Like so many other things, this one had started in the off-season. They'd been shooting the shit after training, both of them flat out on the couches in Saader's living room, pretending like they weren't too tired to move, and someone—okay, it had been Vince, but whatever, details—had maybe made some promises about how they were going to light it the fuck up next season.

And then he'd maybe had to twist the knife a bit on that whole, 'there's this guy on my team, maybe you've heard of him, Jaromir Jagr?' thing again, just because Saader reacted so satisfyingly every damn time, so jealous he couldn't even begin to hide it.

"I'm not jealous," Saader protested, not looking Vince in the eye. "I can score just fine on my own, I don't need a Hall of Famer on my line to get it done."

"Oh please," Vince said. "You can't score at all, hello, I was there the last time we went out."

"Like you picked up either," Saader said. "Also, that's not the point, you know what I meant."

"I bet I score before you on ice and off," Vince said, a little recklessly.

Saader sat up. "Wow, you're just looking to lose, huh? You're on, what are we betting?"

Vince stopped to think—not about making the bet in the first place, of course, he wasn’t backing down—but about terms. "Bottle of Jack?"

"Boring," Saader said. "We can buy our own booze now anyway, remember? Even you'll stop getting asked for ID eventually."

"Weak chirp Saader, weak," Vince said, shaking his head sadly. Saader clearly needed more practice again, lucky Vince was gonna get to see him a bunch more times this year.

"Well, what do you want?" Saader asked.

Vince had to admit that nothing obvious was really coming to mind for him then, either.

"What if we split, anyway?" Saader asked, annoyingly logical. "Like I guess maybe you fluke a goal—" Vince threw a cushion at him and yelped, "Blow me, Saader." Saader continued on, undaunted. "—early on, but I get laid before you do, then what?"

"You're right, this is a terrible bet," Vince said.

Saader was sitting up straighter, though. "Or you could blow me," he'd suggested, a little carefully, like he thought Vince was going to punk out of it.

It wasn't like that would be totally new for them, or anything.

They'd hooked up before sometimes, back when times were tough and neither of them could get into a bar with their shitty fakes, or even when they'd just wanted a warm body and someone familiar, a little stress relief. Saader was pretty good at giving head, Vince had to admit, although he wouldn't say it to his face unless he was seriously drunk or really sad about shit. Saader could stand to find some things a little more difficult, sometimes. It kept him humble, and shit like that, or so Vince thought.

And, like, on the off-chance that Vince didn't manage to pot one before Saader did, well. It wasn’t like he minded getting down there, either. At least Saader kept things neat and didn't get pushy when he was about to come. Vince'd had worse, that was for sure.

"Works for me," Vince said.

* * *

And that would've been it, and maybe they would have even almost forgotten about it, except a week later Vince had been staying over at Saader's place, since that was easier than finding the energy to drive himself home, even though they hadn't really had much of anything to drink, they'd just been up later than they maybe should have been.

"I'm going to bed," Saader said. "You remember where the sheets and shit are, right?"

Vince did, but the idea of making the guest bed up if it wasn't already also sounded annoying, especially when he could just ask, "Mind if I just crash with you?"

Saader shrugged and said, "Sure, just don't kick me at three am."

"That was one time," Vince protested. "And I was drunk and you stole the blankets."

"You deserved it," Saader said stubbornly, but he also tossed Vince a spare pillow and waited for him to peel off his jeans and shirt before saying, "You take the right side, yeah?"

"Cool, thanks," Vince said, crawling under the covers and then wriggling to get comfortable.

It was warm and dark and—maybe a little too warm, really, for the comforter that Saader had on the bed, but he wasn't going to criticize, if only because then he was pretty sure Saader would kick him out. Making a bed up after you were already lying down and comfortable was ten times more annoying than when you were just feeling lazy.

Of course, the second he got comfortable he realized he was a lot more awake than he'd been feeling for the last hour or so. Typical.

"Hey, Saader," Vince murmured, reaching over to elbow him in the ribs. "Are you actually tired?"

Saader sighed but rolled over to answer anyway, licking his lips and groaning a little first. "Do you have to talk right now?" he asked, a little pathetically. That didn't answer Vince's question, though, so he elbowed him again and said, "C'mon, I'm bored."

"If I jerk you off will you go to sleep after?" Saader asked, and Vince went still for a moment, because he hadn't thought that was still on the table this summer. Then again, given the bet they'd made…

"Uh, sure," Vince said, and reached down to shove his briefs down. He could feel his dick stirring, definitely on board with getting Brandon to touch him.

Saader wriggled a little and then sat up, digging through the drawer on his nightstand blindly, not bothering to turn the light on. He clearly knew what he was looking for, because a few seconds later he had one hand on Vince's hip, holding him steady, and the other—slick and warm—wrapped around his dick.

"What, no foreplay?" Vince joked, and Saader huffed out a laugh against his shoulder, and then _licked his neck_ , giving him a sloppy kiss to the side of his jaw before saying, "There, does that count?"

"I have no idea why anyone wants to bang you," Vince said, although the way his voice went up at the end when Saader twisted his wrist extra on the next stroke of his hand gave the lie to that more than a little.

Vince stopped trying to think of what else he could actually say then in favor of letting himself sink back into the mattress while Brandon jerked him off, pretty fast and definitely effectively, obvious affection in the way he let his hand linger.

"So fucking easy," Saader mumbled into the side of Vince's neck when he managed to say, "Fuck, I'm gonna—" and came.

"You're easy," Vince muttered back reflexively, and now that he'd gotten off he was equal parts sleepy and feeling just a little cheated. Normally if they were helping each other out they'd _help each other out_ , and Vince hadn't got his hands on anyone's dick but his own in, like, weeks now.

"Y'want me to get you, Saader?" he asked, pawing at the waistband of his shorts. They were lying close enough at that point that Vince could tell he was hard, and it wasn't like they were the slightest bit shy around each other by this point in their friendship.

"Nah," Saader said, reaching over Vince to wipe his hand off on the other side of the sheets before letting his arm rest low and loose over his ribcage, heavy and familiar. He shifted a little on the mattress, shuffling closer and resting his head on Vince's shoulder, his breath warm and even against his collarbone. "You can owe me one."

"Works for me," Vince said, closing his eyes, more than ready to fall asleep already.

"By the way," Saader said, mumbling again like he was half-asleep already. "This doesn't count as you getting laid for that bet."

"Fine," Vince sighed, thinking, _Damn,_ although he hadn't really expected that argument to hold much water. It would've been worth trying though.

* * *

Vince had woken up hard, plastered to Saader's side, hot and impatient and handsy, and Saader had apparently woken up feeling the same, because it wasn't even really breakfast time yet and Vince was flat on his back, panting hard and feeling pretty damn good about getting off that early. Saader was really, really good with his hands, and Vince appreciated the fuck out of that.

He'd done a decent job returning the favor, too; got Brandon off first, sloppy and fast and easy, and Vince didn't think he was flattering himself by how smug he'd felt when Brandon had gasped and moaned and come all over his hand. Saader was pretty unsubtle when he liked something, and he always seemed to like Vince.

Of course, that just meant that morning showers went from being a nice idea to a virtual necessity, especially if they were going to show their faces around anyone else they knew, even if it was just family or whoever. Definitely before they could go meet any of the guys ahead of their gym time, that was for sure. Vince scratched at the back of his head and wriggled his toes under the sheet, wondering if there was any point in trying to go for seconds before getting out of bed.

"You wanna—" he started to ask, and apparently they really did know each other too well, because Saader didn't even let him finish the sentence before he was reaching over, covering Vince's mouth with his palm to shut him up.

"You can't even just enjoy the mood for five minutes?" Saader asked rhetorically, and then added, "And yeah, we could go again, or we could get up and make breakfast and make it to training on time, so…"

He trailed off, but Vince could figure out the end of that sentence just fine, and even more gallingly, he agreed. Maybe afterward, although—

"Yeah, you know you want this," he said, when Brandon unwisely moved his hand a few seconds too early.

Brandon got his hand over Vince's mouth again and sat up a little awkwardly, trying to give him the 'my life is so hard' look. Vince wasn't buying that one at all. "Even if you are like top ten at that," Brandon started, "we still have to get out of bed in, like, five minutes. Stop stalling. And don’t lick me again."

Vince bit him.

They still got up a minute later, though.

Sharing the shower wasn't particularly effective or even that much of a time-saver, but it was fun.

Saader getting payback by sucking an incredibly obvious hickey right on Vince's neck was also pretty fun, he had to admit. Even if he did get mocked by literally everyone he saw for the rest of the day. Whatever, they were just jealous.

* * *

They hooked up a couple more times over the off-season, not even particularly regularly, but just whenever they had the time, were in the mood. Vince wasn't relying on it, that was for sure, although he also didn't question it when Saader turned up on his doorstep late one evening and just said, "Can I-? I need to not be at home right now."

Vince didn't ask questions.

He just let Saader in, raised an eyebrow while proffering a beer, and sat on the couch just close enough that Saader could lean into him if he wanted, or could slouch there and sulk just out of reach if he preferred that instead.

It took a good half an episode of whatever sitcom Vince had been flipping idly past when he'd gone to answer the door before Saader sagged back into the cushions and then—with a careful, measuring look at Vince—tucked himself under his arm, sighing.

"Tough day, honey?" Vince said, being careful to keep the mocking tone on the last word alone; he wasn't actually going to be that much of a dick if Saader was having a shitty day.

"Ha ha," Saader said, and he slouched some more. "Oh, hey, is this what the world looks like from your angle?" he added after a moment, and Vince felt his lips twitch unwillingly into a grin before he elbowed Saader hard in the ribs.

"That's my boy," Vince said, satisfied that Saader was at least starting to come back onto an even keel if he was making short jokes again.

"This sucks," Brandon said a minute or two later, and that one Vince didn't need to ask about; Saader had been swinging from excited about Columbus to moping over the trade pretty regularly ever since it had all gone down.

He was good more often than not, which had been a relief, and at least he was keeping the moping just to when he could go bitch to Vince about it. It was probably nice for all his other friends, Vince figured, but he didn't mind taking this one for the team. Saader'd been a low-stress low-maintenance buddy for pretty much the entire time they'd known each other, Vince was gonna let him be an uptight jerk occasionally about things just this once. He'd earned that much, that was for sure.

"It'll be okay, man," Vince said, which was probably not the most comforting statement in the world; Saader was going from the reigning Cup Champs to a team that had made the playoffs like, twice ever, but it was also true enough, and Saader knew that, too.

"I know," Saader said, quiet as ever, talking into the side of Vince's neck. "I just needed a vacation from reality or whatever tonight."

"Well, you came to the right place," Vince said, gesturing to his mostly-empty coffee table, littered with Xbox game cases, some coasters he'd put out in a spirit of hopefulness and promptly been too lazy to use regularly, and a few empties from earlier in the week that he really should have dumped in the recycling already. "Wanna play XBox or whatever?"

"Can we just watch a movie or something?" Saader asked, and Vince shrugged and said, "Sure," before digging out the remote and handing it to Saader. If he wanted to watch a movie then he could pick. Vince had cable, he'd done his part here.

They were half through the movie and Vince was just starting to really zone out, relaxing all the way at last, his arm casually around Saader's shoulders when Brandon spoke again.

"I just—I don't even _know anyone_ there," he said, sounding a little forlorn, and Vince hugged him tighter for a second. There was a time and place for doing that whole bro code no feelings bullshit, and that was definitely not one of those times. "I know, change isn't all bad…" and he'll get more to do, he didn't say, now that he wasn’t buried on the depth chart behind like four future Hall of Famers, but it wasn’t like they didn't both know that anyway.

"You'll figure it out," Vince said, after a moment.

He wasn't sure how comforting that actually was, but Saader needed him to be supportive more than he needed anything else, and confidence and no bullshit was the easiest way Vince knew how to do _that_. The fact he believed it completely helped, too. The next step, of course, was to give Saader shit until he snapped out of the mood enough to stick up for himself, and Vince knew exactly how to do that, too. "But, you know, if you have trouble making new friends, you can just—"

"Fuck you," Saader said, lodging an elbow firmly in Vince's ribs. "I can _make new friends_ , I am good with people."

That was even mostly true, although it was more that Saader was a good dude and most people actually recognized that when they met him. Not that Vince was sometimes a little over-protective, or anything like that.

"The important thing is you believe that, bud," Vince said evenly, but maybe he'd played his hand a little too obviously, because Saader just groaned and said, "You're my friend, you have to say this shit," and slumped into him again. "Can we just watch TV and not talk about my feelings or whatever?"

"We can do that," Vince said, rubbing his thumb over the nape of Saader's neck, pushing up into the short hair that was all that was left after his only a little over-dramatic post-trade haircut.

Saader sighed and leaned on him more heavily, letting his chin fall to rest against his chest, encouraging Vince to keep his hand moving, exposing more of his neck and back, the tops of his shoulders.

"Or we can… do something else distracting?" Vince suggested, a little diffidently, turning to face Brandon. It was probably pretty obvious what he was putting on the table there, for all that they didn't usually talk about it. They just, you know, did it. Sometimes they fistbumped after, because Vince gave a damn good blowjob and he wasn’t shy about stating that, but they didn't usually plan it.

Then again, this time apparently they were betting on who was going to _score more_ all season, so what did Vince know about what they usually did?

They didn't fuck around on the couch, in the end, but that was mostly because Vince stopped with his hands on his zipper and said, "This is dumb, want to go to bed already?" and they had done.

It at least kept things from getting too messy.

That was Vince's story, anyhow.

* * *

[direct message conversation, VT_43 and BSaad20; 22 September 2015]

"Hey Saader, when you said you were gonna have the puck more this year you should've maybe specified you didn't mean right in the face."

"funny"

"nah for real tho how are you???"

"FOUR root canals"

"Damn"

"Probably gonna miss games :("

"were we counting the preseason anyway?"

"counting what?"

"SAADER"

"Oh. Right. I guess not?"

"you'll be back for the season opener though right?"

"probably, idk"

"so I don't need to, like, spot you a couple to make it fair then"

"Fuck off, I bet I get my first goal before you"

"Oh really? What do you wanna put on it then? Can you even give blowjobs with your teeth all fucked up?"

"sure you can beat me?"

"With both hands tied behind my back"

"That works for me"

"Huh?"

"handsfree bj, sounds hot, yeah?"

"Sounds like something that gets you out of a ticket while driving, but sure, I guess I could go for that."

"Glad you admit it"

"Hey, you're the one on your knees when you lose bud"

"Just keep telling yourself that Tro"

"Weaksauce chirp, Saader"

"Your MOM"

"Jesus, that's even worse. Hey, gotta bounce, talk later, yeah?"

"Sure sounds fine"

"I'm totally fucking scoring first tho, later sucker"

* * *

Vince flipped past the highlights on the NHL network, making a vague mental note about what the other teams in their division had done, and who was looking like they'd started well.

The coverage moved onto the Metro and he shrugged to himself on seeing that the Jackets had lost their opener, but then it switched to start showing the goals and there was a familiar figure in an unfamiliar jersey on the powerplay, winding up a backhand that went past Lundqvist sweet as anything as the play-by-play celebrated Brandon Saad's first goal as a Columbus Blue Jacket.

Well, damn. So Vince owed him a bj after all.

"Win the battle lose the war Saader" Vince messaged him, after taking a minute to think about it and decide that being cocky had served him well enough up till then so there was no sense in changing what worked. He was totally gonna score more than Saader, no ifs ands or buts about it. All good.

The message came back shockingly fast, like Brandon had had his phone in his hand or something.“Big words, Tro. Double or nothing? For the season.”

Vince didn’t even have to stop to think about that one.

If he won, he got bragging rights and a no-strings hookup with someone he knew he was compatible with, who knew what he liked, and who could fucking deliver on it. And in the incredibly unlikely event that he lost, well. He still got the most fun half of that. It wasn't like they wouldn't really both win, really.

“you’re on,” he sent back, and he just knew, somewhere in Ohio, Saader was grinning back at his own phone.

* * *

Four Months Later:

Vince heard his phone ping from the kitchen and cursed himself for forgetting to grab it after he’d dropped his water glass into the dishwasher. He was managing to limp around in the boot they’d put him in all right, but it wasn’t fast or particularly pretty when he did.

He hobbled back over to grab it, and was largely unsurprised to see a message from Brandon.

He didn’t need to have turned on the NHL network to know Brandon must have just notched his 27th goal. And since there was no way short of developing some kind of Wolverine-style mutant healing factor that Vince was going to be back on the ice before the playoffs, that meant that Brandon was going to win.

Of course, Brandon’s team wasn’t making the playoffs full stop, but bringing that up seemed like overkill as chirping went, and Vince had standards. Not many, but some.

He thumbed open the message, expecting some kind of bragging, or a joke about his foot, or something along those lines, but instead it just said, “looks like I’m spotting you some, rematch next year?”

“you fuckin bet” Vince messaged him back, grinning involuntarily. Saader always was painfully fair about shit like this.

“btw,” Brandon messaged him back, a few minutes later, and then the dots hovered on the screen for a couple of minutes, like he was typing and deleting or just second-guessing whatever chirp he was going to drop after all. Vince realized he was holding his breath and told himself to stop being so fucking dramatic, and then the phone buzzed again.

“i think it’s only fair if the tie-break next time is me tying you up.”

Vince stared for a second, and then laughed helplessly, because fuck, it was always the quiet ones, wasn’t it?

“Saader,” he sent back, like ten seconds later. “We don’t have to wait for me to beat you in scoring to try THAT”

And for the first time all year, Vince thought that, okay, there were going to be some benefits to the off-season by the time it rolled around.

-the end-


End file.
